


Core

by Eremiss



Series: Guinevere Ashe [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alisaie is best sister, Backstory, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood, Friendship, It's the thought that counts, Meaningful Gestures, Opening Up, Talking, the difference between Knowing and Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eremiss/pseuds/Eremiss
Summary: Alisaie discovers that Gwen eats apple cores. Where would someone pick up a habit like that? (takes place mid-Stormblood / 4.0)
Relationships: Alisaie Leveilleur & Warrior of Light
Series: Guinevere Ashe [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632004
Kudos: 9





	Core

The Nadaam was approaching somehow quickly and slowly at the same time. Each hour seemed to take a week, yet in the blink of an eye it was evening with only two days remaining until the motley crew of Scions, the Warrior of Light, the Doman Prince and his friend led the Mol tribe into battle against the other Steppe clans.

Somehow that wasn’t the most outlandish thing Gwen had ever done. Top 10, perhaps, but far from first.

For their part, the Mol seemed… anxiously optimistic about the whole thing, with extra emphasis on the ‘anxious’ part. For what it was worth, Cirina and Temulun seemed perfectly assured that the outsiders would lead them to victory.

Gwen and Alisaie took lunch slightly apart from the tribe, taking a moment to relax and breathe. Hien and Lyse were still off with Gosetsu, helping to train the Mol and make what improvements they could to their armor and weapons. They were all awaiting the Nadaam, but also word from Alphinaud, Tataru or the Resistance. Being so far out in the Steppe left them fairly cut off from most everything, and while that came with some advantages, the lack of ready communication was proving to be more than a minor annoyance. 

Gwen and Alisaie conversed only lightly, and the latter did most of the talking. She talked about X’hrun and her training, about the Mol and what she thought they might be able to improve in what little time they had left, about Urianger, and about Alphinaud and his paranoia, which was exemplified in his insistence to use only scant, vague details in his letters in case they were intercepted. Gwen was content to listen, crunching quietly on an apple while her eyes wandered around Alisaie’s general vicinity.

It was difficult to find a balance between being aware of the goings on in Eorzea and not getting caught up worrying about them; between wondering what they’d find when they returned and fearing the worst. 

Between being confident in Thancred’s abilities and worrying for his safety, wondering when –or worse, _if–_ she would hear from him, and the ever-looming temptation to take the absence of letters as a sign of tragedy or misfortune she was yet unaware of.

Is he even getting her letters? Rather, are they actually being delivered _to him_ , wherever he’s gotten off to, or are the moogles dropping them all off at the Stones instead? She’d been assuming the former but, thinking about it, the latter would be easier and far more convenient for dozens of reasons. Safer, too, perhaps.

Do Imperials use post moogles? She never even thought about it.

“Well _someone_ is lost in their head,” Alisaie’s voice had the lilt of a joke. “You’ve started eating the core.”

How far into Imperial territory would postmoogles go, anyway? They’re magical creatures, so perhaps it wouldn’t be too difficult to flit about unseen, or use aetheric travel to cover distance quickly. But, seeing how Thancred’s usual assignments hinged on his ability to sneak around and go unnoticed, a visit from a potentially-conspicuous post moogle likely wouldn’t be appreciated.

Could that blow his cover? The thought made her stomach clench.

She quickly told herself it was a ridiculous idea, because it absolutely, certainly, definitely was, but it stuck around anyway, catching in the wrinkles and loose threads of worry and restlessness she hadn’t been able to tie up.

But what if…

 _Alright, now you’re just being a worrywart. Gwen scolded herself. Thancred can take care of himself, for one. And he’s got a million more important, more urgent things to do than reply to letters. Just like I do._ She cast her gaze back towards the thick of the Mol camp, something like impatience stirring in her head. 

Why was it that the more important and pressing an issue or task, the more it hinged on needing to ‘hurry up and wait’?

“…Gwen?”

It was a curious thing to be confident in someone’s abilities, to trust them and their capabilities, yet worry for their safety. Having both thoughts at once, confidence but doubt, sure yet still uncertain, didn’t feel quite so contradictory or backwards and upside-down as she’d expected it to. The two thoughts wouldn’t blend together or settle on some sort of middle point or compromise, but at the same time they weren’t wholly dissonant with one another. Odd. She should write about…

Did Alisaie say something about a core? 

Gwen blinked, vision returning as she pulled her focus from her thoughts. She found Alisaie looking at her with an amused smile.

“Hm?” She mumbled eloquently through a mouthful of apple.

Alisaie replied with a teasing grin, “You were so lost in thought you started eating the core,” and gestured at the bare, half-eaten stump of apple core in Gwen’s hand. “I know you’re prone to getting lost in your head, but I didn’t realize _how_ lost.”

Gwen’s mind blanked for a moment and she covered her pause with an awkward laugh, “I, ah… H-hey, I don’t get _that_ lost in my head,” and she shot Alisaie with a sidelong look and matching pout.

Alisaie merely grinned wider, eyeing the half-eaten core meaningfully. “No?”

“No. I,” the seemingly innocuous phrase stuck to her tongue for a moment, weighed down by experiences she hadn’t thought of in years, “I’ve always eaten the core.”

Alisaie’s expression said she thought that was an excuse–and a poor one, at that.

Gwen made an effort to be utterly insouciant as she took another bite of the core. A difficult thing to manage under the pressure of an attentive, questioning gaze that made her momentarily forget how to not be incriminating or awkward.

Trying to chew in some sort of natural, unconcerned manner was equally difficult. 

Seeing her so determinedly sticking to her story, Alisaie cocked her head to one side and called her bluff, tone just shy of skeptical, “Always.”

Gwen shrugged, not caring to try and remember. “Since I was a child.”

The younger mage frowns slightly, looking puzzled. “Why?”

Gwen didn’t say that was a strange thing to ask, nor did she admit, _because sometimes it was all I had_. 

Beggars can’t be choosers, and it was _food_. Sure, the core was tough, but it was perfectly edible; and tasted fine, too, unless she managed to crunch down on a seed just right. 

Not wasting precious and vital things like food, particularly over such minor gripes as texture, blemishes and taste, was one of the first lessons she’d learned when she’d been struggling to provide for her brother and father. It had become all the more vital after they’d died and she’d been left alone. 

But, while simple, the truth was a dark, heavy thing that was fragile in some places and jagged in others. She’d gotten in the habit of keeping her past separate, somewhere else in her mind, but the walls that held it back were delicate. Things were already starting to leak out; she didn’t need to go inviting more.

“Just habit,” Gwen hedged, dodging around less-than-pleasant memories from her younger years that were suddenly drifting through her head like leaves on a breeze. 

Alisaie made a thoughtful sound under her breath, puzzled frown growing a little deeper. The skepticism and all hints of teasing were gone, replaced with genuine curiosity. “How’d you pick that up?”

“Ah, you know,” Gwen shrugged, “trying not to be wasteful.” Not a lie, she knew better than to try, but not quite the truth either.

Alisaie opened her mouth and then paused, her expression morphing with something that looked like realization. She abandoned whatever she was going to say in favor of casting her gaze around herself in search of something. 

Suddenly she reached out, her own discarded apple core clutched in her hand when it returned. 

She stared at it contemplatively, brows drawing together and furrowing. “You were,” she said slowly, sounding a bit like she was thinking out loud, “on your own growing up, right?”

The look on her face reminded Gwen of someone who was trying to solve one of those brain-teaser puzzles, the ones made of metal or a few pieces of wood that were so easy to take apart but so very difficult to properly reassemble. She looked like she had all of the pieces and mostly understood what the final result should look like, but she was struggling to figure out how to properly fit them together. 

Gwen nodded, wondering what she might be thinking.

“You learned botany,” Alisaie said in that same tone. “It must have made life a bit easier.”

Gwen didn’t recall saying it had been hard, though that was the truth. She should have figured that half truths would be enough for the younger red mage to start grasping the whole picture.

This was always the part where she would… leave off and withdraw. She didn’t need to say anything more, she could simply be silent and leave Alisaie with whatever conclusion she’d drawn. She was under no obligation to try and clarify or explain anything, or share more about herself than she already had. 

It’s not the first time her friends have been curious –far from it, even– and it wouldn’t be the first time she tiptoed around details and skirted the truth. She rarely volunteered much information about herself, and even when asked she tended to answer in halves and vagaries before nudging the conversation elsewhere. Everyone had things about themselves that they kept secret, including the Scions, and they all had their own ways of avoiding discussing them.

She wasn’t… doing it because she was embarrassed, really–though there was certainly a smidgen of that. Or maybe more than a smidgen. Even knowing other Scions, including Thancred, had their own less-than-auspicious beginnings didn’t fully erase her self-consciousness and unease about her own. 

But more than that, she…liked the way her friends viewed her now, and she couldn’t help wondering how becoming aware of her past might affect that. Maybe it would impact their view of her, or how they acted. Maybe it would just be a fact to file away, and nothing else. 

Gwen was sure nothing would change for the worst, at least, and that was a comfort. Her friends weren’t the sort of people that judged others based on upbringing or means, and it wasn’t like she was some sort of sordid criminal confessing to their past misdeeds or anything like that. 

Still, it was like divulging a secret, which was always something of a nerve-wracking prospect. Telling them would –could, rather; might– change something. Somehow. 

But was that really such a bad thing? No. Everyone and everything changed all the time. Her friends wouldn’t think less of her for her past, nor whatever means she’d had to resort to or adopt in order to take care of herself. They would merely… know. That was all. Knowing wasn’t a bad thing.

They didn’t _need_ to know, maybe, but it wasn’t about _need._ It was about trusting her friends, and being open and honest with them. And herself, in a way.

Gwen had recently been coming to the realization that she was not very much of either. Out loud, anyway. And she wanted to change that.

But right _now_?

She considered it, feeling the smooth peel and rough, stumpy stem of her apple core.

Now.

“Usually. Not always,” Gwen said mildly.

Alisaie’s look came apart a little, her expected solution coming undone when the pieces didn’t fit. Her brows furrowed as she began thinking again.

“The Twelveswood has seasons, just like everywhere else, and… Not much grows in winter,” Gwen went on with a shrug. “But even then, everything doesn’t always work out for the best. Things were just,” she hesitated, trying to find a word, “rough sometimes. And sometimes there was nothing that could be done about it except… dealing with it. I learned to made the best of what I had.” 

She ate the last of her core. “A lot of it became habit.”

That all felt very ‘half’ still, even though she’d made an effort to actually try and at least give her the general picture. Not specific, maybe, but less vague. And it was also true, which was like being honest. It was enough to give clarity, at least, and let Alisaie see that she still had a few things misaligned.

Sure enough, a look of comprehension came over Alisaie’s face that was more gray and melancholic than Gwen had expected. Part is consideration, maybe trying to imagine going through such things herself, and part of it is the sort of look that said she might be feeling as though she should have been able to notice or figure all that out on her own, without having to have it laid out for her.

Gwen’s mouth twisted and she almost winced. This was part of the reason she didn’t enjoy talking about growing up. It always hit others harder than it hit her, as she had lived her whole life with it and they were only just finding out, and always brought down the mood much too far for much too long. She should say something to–

Alisaie exhaled sharply through her nose, her look of realization suddenly hardened into one of resolve.

She turned a determined glower on her apple core, staring hard and thinking harder. Then she gripped the core tight and bit the top off with one sharp motion. 

Gwen blinked dumbly at her, watching her face scrunch with displeasure as she chewed.

“Wh…?” Gwen mumbled uselessly, bewildered.

Alisaie turned that sharp look on her, daring her to question the action and whatever resolve or realization it signified.

But she hadn’t been intending to eat it before, not until Gwen had explained…

 _Oh…_ Comprehension came together slowly, congealing into something warm and heavy that settled snugly in Gwen’s chest, faint amusement rippling after it. She softened and slouched, unsure of what to say or how to respond.

Eventually, when Alisaie appeared to almost be done chewing, Gwen motioned a bit listlessly at the core, “You’re, ah, supposed to eat it from the bottom up.”

Alisaie froze, eyes widening. She looked like Gwen had just told her she’d eaten something poisonous, one cheek bulging like a nutkin. It was almost comical. 

But Gwen enjoyed living, so she kept her amusement to herself. She couldn’t keep a smile off her face, but she made it warm and friendly rather than amused. “It tastes better that way.”

Alisaie resumed chewing and scowling. “You could’ve said something sooner.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the bestest beta reader ever: @rhymingteelookatme :D *throws confetti*
> 
> I got the idea and ran with it and then it got kind of anime-y lol
> 
> Need moar Alisaie  
> \---  
> Debated about whether to post this here or in Bits; settled on here because no ask or prompt involved.


End file.
